


In Camera

by SandwichesYumYum



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Warning for invasion of privacy, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 01:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2131719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandwichesYumYum/pseuds/SandwichesYumYum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth. Modern AU. A short, multi-chaptered piece.  Tywin. Shenanigans. Eventual fwuffiness.  Do please note the 'PLEASE NOTE'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Camera

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will update whenever it does, because just writing this first chapter lugged me back into full-on longfic keyboard tippy-tapping when I didn't think that it was possible. Sorry. It will, in any case, be completed when I feel it moderately acceptable for posting. I anticipate there being no more than six relatively short chapters in the whole piece. I would ask you to PLEASE NOTE that one of the primary themes of this involves an invasion of privacy. It is not very explicit, but is there nonetheless.
> 
> My thanks to RoseHeart, who accepted the sudden arrival of this fic with kindness, patience and support, as ever.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own it not.

IN CAMERA: TYWIN I

 

_She smiles more than I knew._

Tywin flicks through the selection of images on the screen. They are quite illuminating. He'd thought his son's elopement an act of sheer folly and the woman he had chosen nothing short of an upstart gold digger. It coming to him as a fait accompli, however, forced him to accept the ugly, graceless islander in the face of Jaime's fervent assertions that divorce was simply out of the question.

For but the second time, Tywin had been unable to do anything but give in to his eldest son's determination to forge his own path. He rather wishes that Jaime's chosen points of contention were a little less vital, but it is done and Tywin must make the best of things. And looking at the pictures before him, it would seem that task will be less difficult than anticipated.

He pauses on one. He finds it strange, seeing a woman so very big with her forehead pressed down to his son's. Jaime is by no means a small man, but his wife towers over him and Tywin thinks it a curious choice that she should be wearing heels, particularly given how unsteadily they have borne her this evening. It could be that she wants to appear imposing. Perhaps he will speak to her on the matter. She is memorable enough already and there is no need for her to accentuate her more unfortunate differences.

Still, it is no matter. Though the photograph was taken at a fair distance, their tangled fingers and almost touching lips tell him enough, as they would to anybody. The affection between them is plainly real and Tywin feels a brief ache as he remembers a time long past, when he had felt the same for another.

_Would you have welcomed her into our family, Joanna? Would you have come to love her as our daughter?_

He suspects his late wife would have done so without hesitation, but that was ever her way.

It is not his.

Tywin is well aware that Jaime will likely correctly guess at his involvement and it is possible that this intervention may be seen as a step too far. But his son doesn't have any trust in him, so on balance Tywin feels that any attempt to offset the vile rumours surrounding his twinned children, which he will always refuse to believe, can only be beneficial to their shared public image as a family.

The Gods know that the basic evidence of this marriage will do no such thing, as matters stand. In the short line of lions waiting to greet their guests, Tywin had overheard the mutterings of many of the so-called great and good of Westeros. Their comments on the newest Lannister had been at best disbelieving and in many cases, darkly scathing. And he has no doubt that the newlyweds had heard every spitefully uttered word.

She may not be the wife he would have chosen for his eldest son, but Brienne Lannister is a part of this family now. And this invasion of privacy by design, for that is what it was, may turn out to be actively useful. Tywin removes the memory card from the computer and reaches into a desk drawer, choosing a blank one to replace it. "You have done well," he says to the man sitting across from him.

"It was no great feat," Varys says, his voice high and his skin waxen in the light of the coloured glass desklamp. "And the rain has no effect on my hairstyle, after all." He waves his hand up towards his pale pate, as if he were being vague, though they both know that he is never any such thing. "I am curious," he continues. "The camera. It has no wireless capability and you sealed it before freeing it for my use. One might be tempted to think you don't trust me."

"Only a fool would trust you, Varys. And I am no fool."

A soft-lipped mouth grows thin as it lifts into an approximation of a smile. In truth, Tywin finds the overall effect of it distinctly unsettling. "And you are at least honest about that. So very few are," the master manipulator sighs.

Tywin hums in mild amusement as he copies three images onto the fresh card. "I should imagine not," he says, considering copying a fourth. The cursor hovers over it as he dispassionately takes in the sight of his son's face nearly buried into a certain young wife's large neck. Brienne's features are lit with happiness, rendering her a touch more attractive, but her leg is lifted high against Jaime and an undignified amount of her thigh is showing, so Tywin leaves things as they are. He wants people to see their privately obvious attachment, not their skin. It isn't needful, and would only cheapen the Lannister name.

_Three should be enough._

He takes the the card from the machine and looks at the little gold square shining where it rests on a fingertip.

The ploy had been elaborate and was set in motion despite it having a minimal chance of success. More than half of the exits from the hallways and ballroom were blocked with long runs of tables laden with an enormous amount of unneeded and expensive food. He has contacted the local shelters for the homeless to distribute the leftovers, come the morning. Another costly, but deceptively small gesture which will, with some prompting, be reported well.

It had all been Varys' idea, of course. It was fairly obvious from the start that Brienne would be unaccustomed to this level of scrutiny and might seek refuge from it. Kettling their guests, limiting their freedom to move within his home, did the very same for Jaime and his wife. If they sought any time alone they would be driven to do so on one side of the building, where a spider could see.

All in all, it has worked spectacularly well and Tywin is finding his view of this unwanted pairing altered for the better, for all that he cannot bring himself to wholeheartedly approve of it.

And even if the planning hadn't been so fruitful, Tywin would have still thoroughly enjoyed the knowledge that the emissary from King's Landing was spending an inordinate amount of time waiting in the wet shrubberies outside. He rather thinks, with hindsight, that he should've left suggesting his son and new daughter take a break from the tedious task of greeting their visitors until a little later.

He smiles coolly and passes the memory card to Varys. "These will find their way to the appropriate news outlets, I _trust?"_

Varys stands without comment at that last word, glancing at the clock on the wall before inclining his head respectfully. "Within the hour." He turns and sweeps in the direction of the door and Tywin imagines that this dangerously political individual half-wishes he lived in the time when he could've worn long, flowing robes instead of an exorbitantly priced, but subtly tailored suit.

The motivations of the bald man are something Tywin hasn't yet managed to fully discern, and he decides, in a split-second, to simply ask him. "Why have you assisted us in this matter?"

Varys looks back over his shoulder, his eyes hooded and sly. "Your economic power has brought wealth to much of the continent and stability to this region for decades. Whilst it can be maintained, and perhaps be encouraged to continue, the government will support you in any way possible."

Then he is gone, the barely concealed threat seeming to whisper in the air about Tywin.

_Whilst it can be maintained._

"Quite," Tywin mutters, tapping a blunt yet perfectly manicured fingernail on his desk.

The strains of music reach him from the ballroom and he spends a few moments studying the images on his screen one last time.

_They love each other, I think. I suppose that is something to be worked with._

He deletes the pictures and moves to securely stow the card holding the originals in his office safe. He then retrieves his jacket from the closet and pulls it on, all the while silently debating how he should treat his unexpected relative, now that his disapproval has lessened. It is so that Brienne has sound manners, which is a start. It would not do, however, to be too friendly. "I'm not sure I remember how to be, in any case," he says dryly to himself as he straightens his sleeves with firm tugs.

 _Heels_.

Yes. He might not have been asked for advice on their being wed at any point, but he can certainly make the most of their affection and ask them to present themselves in a fashion befitting those of their name. If they will not do it for him, they are certain to do so for each other. He has a sudden flash of thought, of enormous, tow-headed grandchildren stomping up and down the grand staircase. That they'll come at all is a mere assumption on his part, but he can't seem to help indulging in it, if only briefly.

"At least they will dominate any room," he muses, not entirely unhappily, as he gathers himself to rejoin the celebration. 


End file.
